


Two views of Mount Pire

by Heliopause



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Cross-cultural, Ethics, Gen, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 17:26:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3298292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heliopause/pseuds/Heliopause
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"and the poet sang the great old lay of Fair Olvin and how he fought the Giant Pire and turned him into stone ..."  <br/>An Archenlandish legend seen through Calormene eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two views of Mount Pire

"How have I fallen short, O Valiant, that this is not made plain to you? Is my Calormene speech so hard to hear?"

Aravis held herself erect, as might a young Tarkhaan formally addressing a military commander to argue strategy, but she was shaking with frustration. At the feast the exhilaration of the company, and the triumphant conclusion to her adventure and above all the high heart-piercing wild music of the fiddles had clouded her mind, but now, in the quiet of the room she was to share with Lucy, she had been able to think through what she had learned—been able to think it through, but not able to make this Northern Queen _see_. 

"How is it not _clear_ , what they spread so openly before us? He who is called Fair Olvin, and is sung before nobles at great feasts as hero has _ensorcelled a living being to stone!_ You despised and killed the Witch for such dark art; why is this Olvin not seen for what he must have been? Because he is Fair? Oh, you Northerners are fair, but... Queen Lucy, this was not the act of a warrior, but of a fell magician... This is not a land of... This is a land so full of horrors that horror is not even seen, but sung, praised before kings and _applauded_ by court ladies..."

The last word broke off short, and only her dark eyes, wide and urgent, still raged to be heard. 

Indeed, Lucy thought that it was that she had no breath to speak more; her breathing had turned to short, hiccuping gasps, as if she was almost overcome by horror and disgust. 

How, then, to answer her? the Queen wondered. How to win her to quietness and avert a gathering storm? This was a girl far from her home, far from the whole world she had known, and both tired and—clearly—very frightened. So—this was not a time for argument, but for soothing and calming, as one might soothe and calm a nervous, fine-bred Mare. 

"Aravis... it is late; it has been a day of tumult and upheaval, and we are both in great need of rest. As for the ballad - it is an old Archenlandish tale, and I know not how far it may be true, or how far embroidered for the sake of wonder and amazement—or even to make rhymes! Do not tales shift and change with the teller in Calavar and Tashbaan? Come—" and Lucy put all the comforting warmth she could into her voice, "let us take rest on this soft couch, and we can talk and sift the truth of it when daylight brings us wisdom. Will you come, dear friend, whom I have only met this day? Come." She dropped her voice to a sleepy quietness. "Let's to bed."

Aravis stood, still tensed, but obviously uncertain now, and half-won. She looked about her, like a lost child, as if the answers she sought could be found in Anvard's stone walls. 

When she spoke again, it was almost pleadingly:

"Queen Lucy, can they think and feel when they are stone? Do they know when the rain beats on them and they wear away, little by little?"

Lucy was silent, remembering the broken, weathered fragments which still were turned up, from time to time, when land was ploughed in Narnia. Who could say?

"Has... has that Rumblebuffin you told us of ever spoken of his living death, as stone?"

"He, yes." The Queen was glad for a question she could answer plainly. "He remembers nothing of that time. For him, it was as if in one moment he faced the Witch, and then he awoke to find us all about him."

"Then... if the ensorcelled can be woken, is not it plain what persons of honour must do, in this accursed land? This vile deed of Olvin must be undone..."

"You..." Lucy could not stop the smile which traitorously,for just one instant, curved her lips. This Calormene was so ardent, and so earnest, to want to see undone the deeds of ancient legend—and the deed of one who was called _hero_ in Archenland, at that! But though her lips betrayed her she kept her voice respectful and sympathetic as she replied.

"Your house is truly one which looks to do great deeds and dare great adventures, dear Tarkheena, but night is still for sleeping. Come, and we shall talk more of this in the morning."

But Aravis had seen that smile, and had read in it—who knew what? Lucy felt a moment's vexation with herself for letting that inner amusement show. For Aravis had snapped to full alertness now, and her face showed a refusal which Lucy had experience enough to know would not be quickly shaken. She was sweeping up her pack, and pulling a blanket from the couch, and catching up an apple or two from the bowl on the little table. 

At the door she stopped, to say, very clearly, and with decision: "No! No, I won't. I'm going to the stables. I'll stay with Hwin."


End file.
